


Like Space

by knlalla



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Fluff, Getting Together, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Mutual Pining, Phan - Freeform, Phanfiction, Strangers to Lovers, for like five seconds - Freeform, i don't even know just enjoy it m8, no violence, nothing graphic, psychic!Phil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-19
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2019-01-19 17:57:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 15,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12415083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knlalla/pseuds/knlalla
Summary: A cute boy shows up at Phil's shop. (alternating POV)TW: vague mentions of self-harm, I'll add them in Ch summaries when they apply.This is purely a work of fiction, I don't own Dan & Phil.





	1. "What are you looking to do, make someone fall for you?"

**Phil POV**

I looked up as the bell rung, announcing boy’s entrance - could I even call him a boy? He looked about my age, probably a bit younger - and I immediately got a good vibe from him. Something...like space? Beautiful, if his features were anything to go by, deep and dark but simultaneously full of light.

 

“Hello! How can I help you?” I let my voice carry across the shop, and he looked mildly surprised that I’d spoken to him. I gave a warm smile, hoping to calm his nervous shift in energy. He glanced around, clearly trying to find what he was looking for without having to make conversation; when he’d given up, he moved toward the counter - and had to duck around a few hanging plants along the way.

 

“I, uh, just needed some basil, maybe some sage if you’ve got it,” his voice was soft, and I could still feel the waves of anxiety, but I couldn’t help my curiosity. 

 

“What are you looking to do, make someone fall for you? Purify your home?” I knew that wasn’t his objective, it was something mundane, but I wanted to see his reaction - which was as adorable as it was surprising: his cheeks turned pink, and he sputtered for a moment before answering.

 

“No, I just, uh, was going to cook something, and you’re the only place that sells fresh herbs in the middle of winter,” he concluded, dropping his eyes to the table. I wasn’t sure if it was the talk of love or the concept of magic that had him flustered, but I jumped on it. It’d been a slow day in the shop, with only Margery to keep me company. And she didn’t talk much, being a cat.

 

“Ah, but you don’t really believe in this stuff, do you,” I said, gesturing around my shop - myriad dried herbs, crystals, books, and even a few more occult items filled the shop, and pots of fresh herbs, flowers, and other plants took up any remaining free space. It wasn’t explicitly “magical”, but it certainly gave skeptics an uncomfortable feeling.

 

“No offense,” he said, shaking his head, and I laughed.

 

“You’re not the first, and you wouldn’t be the last,” I grinned. “Basil and sage, you said? Fresh?” He nodded, so I stepped out from behind the counter, jostling Margery’s bed and sending her hurtling through the shop to the stairs in the back. She eyed us both, cautious but inquisitive, before continuing up to my loft apartment.

 

The guy looked startled, and I chuckled again. “Just Margery, she’s irritated that I’m paying attention to anyone but her,” he ducked his head, then, attempting a small laugh, and I saw the blush again. “Right this way,” I stepped in front of him, making my way toward the window with the more commonly requested herbs. Sage was a big one, but basil wasn’t far behind, so I had plenty of both.

 

I grabbed a small plastic bag from the tray beside the planter and pulled off a few leaves. “How much do you expect you’ll need?” I said, pausing. He was alone, and would likely be cooking for one, maybe enough for leftovers. But saying those things aloud usually threw people for a loop, so I was accustomed to asking questions I already knew the answers to.

 

“Oh, uh, it’ll just be me,” his voice was soft again, a trait which I found rather endearing, and he blushed as I stared at him -  _ probably for a few seconds too long, _ I decided, chastising myself and turning back to the plant.

 

“Sure, here you go,” I tied off the bag with a small ‘basil’ label and handed it over, then repeated the process with the sage. “Anything else you’ll need?” I hoped he wouldn’t leave, there was something... _ something _ about him, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it.

 

“Uhm...no, I think that’s all,” he sounded a bit sad that he hadn’t come up with something else he needed, but we returned to the counter anyway. I rung him up, about to read off his total, when he spoke up. “Oh, you sell tea here as well?” His eyes were locked on the small board above the counter, which listed a few of the teas we offered.

 

“Absolutely, anything catch your eye? Wait,” I paused, deciding to show off a little. “Chamomile,” I announced. He was split between that and the chai, so I made the decision for him - he definitely needed to relax.

 

“That...actually, that sounds lovely, I’ll have a cup of that, if you don’t mind,” he smiled, more genuine than the half-smiles he’d given before, and I was enraptured. If he was space, his smile was a star, glittering at me from the darkness.

 

I turned, opening a bag of the homemade chamomile tea, and reached under the counter for a mug. “Apologies,” I tossed the words over my shoulder as I placed the bag in the mug, “we’re out of to-go cups, will it be a problem to stay while you drink it?” This was a blatant lie, but I got the idea that he might stay, if he had a reason, so I invented one.

 

“Oh,” he was surprised, but not unpleasantly so. “No, that’s alright, I don’t mind.”

 

“Great, we have a small table over there, by the flowers,” I pointed to the location, hidden behind a few bookshelves, and he nodded. “You can go ahead over, I’ll bring it to you once the water’s done.”

  
He gave a little “oh”, then disappeared behind the bookshelves. I couldn’t help it, I was smiling as I poured the water; the water I’d not heated up, but that was a simple fix.  _ He’s cute, don’t make it weird. _ I fixed my expression, aiming for a neutral but kind smile, and made my way around the various pots of plants scattered around the shop, bringing the tea to a boil along the way.


	2. Maybe he’s just being polite, you dolt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dan stays for a bit, to do some writing.

Okay, I wasn’t about to lie to myself - while I didn’t believe in  _ any _ of this nonsense, I really enjoyed the vibe of the shop. It was warm, probably to keep the various plants alive, and very homey and lovely.  _ And the shopkeeper isn’t too bad, either _ . I smiled a bit, then jumped as a steaming mug was set before me.

 

“Here you go, a nice hot cup of chamomile.” The man looked to be close to my age, almost as tall as I was, with black hair straight out of 2007. I was surprised that he’d engaged me as soon as I walked into the place, and even more surprised at his appearance.  _ Doesn’t seem like the kind of guy to be working in a shop like this _ . “Can I get you any milk or sugar?”

 

“Oh, yeah, that would be great,” I was startled from my thoughts, but couldn’t help but match his smile as he returned to the counter.  _ This is such a pleasant place, I wonder if he’d let me stay here and write for a bit? It sure as hell beats working from the Starbucks down the road… _

 

I allowed my eyes to wander the flowers surrounding me, enjoying the general aesthetic of the little corner. A small pot was set on the table with a little succulent; I racked my brain, but couldn’t imagine what use succulents would have in herbalism. I was drawn again from my thoughts by the man setting the milk and sugar, along with a spoon, next to my still-hot mug.

 

“Anything else you need?” He was grinning, and I wondered what was running through his head.  _ Maybe he’s just being polite, you dolt. _ I shook my head, and he looked about to turn away, when I changed my mind.

 

“Actually, would it be alright if I stayed and did some work for a bit? I won’t be a nuisance, this place is just so much nicer than trying to work from a busy Starbucks, and it’s so warm here. You can, uh, say no,” I trailed off, realizing he probably wasn’t used to having strangers hang out here. 

 

“Of course you can stay, the place is usually pretty quiet. Most of our orders come in online, so I may be in and out to make a few deliveries, but you can absolutely stay. What do you do for work?” I looked down, a little embarrassed.

 

“Well, it’s not really  _ work _ , I guess, but I do some freelance writing for some magazines. I just have a few projects, but it can be really distracting to work with a ton of people around,” I reached for the milk and sugar, adding them to the tea and stirring.

 

“Well, it sounds pretty cool to me! I’ll leave you to your work, though. Let me know if I you need anything else,” he flashed another smile, and I watched him as he returned to the counter. Once out of sight, I pulled my macbook from my bag and cleared some space on the table. I was definitely not about to tell him exactly  _ what _ I wrote, and I was immensely glad he didn’t ask - writing articles for women’s magazines wasn’t exactly taboo, but I’d gotten my fair share of weird looks for mentioning it. It paid decently, but I didn’t love to talk about it. 

 

Glancing around the bookshelf again to ensure the man had really returned to the counter, I pulled up my latest article and reread the title.  _ Making Your Man Happy - Ten Sex Tips You Probably Forgot About.  _ The group at the magazine had insisted that their readers loved to see those kinds of articles  _ written by men,  _ but I’d only agreed to do it if I could use my pen name. Given the subject, I was - understandably - having some trouble writing it in public. I had tried writing it at home, but I kept finding distractions, and the article was due in for review by the end of the week.  _ Only two days left... _

 

Sighing, I took a sip of the chamomile. The warm flavors blended perfectly with the milk and sugar, and I exhaled, immediately more relaxed. Warm inside and out, I shed my jacket and readjusted my position. Nothing immediately flowed to the front of my mind, my fingers resting lightly on the keys, so I went for another sip of tea. Holding the warm mug in my hands, I stared at the final sentence I’d managed to write. Another sip. More staring. I sipped again, deciding to reread everything I’d already written in the hopes that something would strike me.

 

To no avail. I set down the now-empty mug and pulled up my freewriting document. Whenever I couldn’t get the inspiration going, I would write stream-of-consciousness in an endless document, which usually gave me an idea I could run with. 

 

I typed for what felt like ages, but - I noticed - had only been about half an hour, when I was struck with something. It wasn’t the whole article, but another “tip”, so I fleshed it out and sat back.  _ Only...six more to go, _ I cursed silently, wishing I’d been able to come up with more.

 

“I’m running out for a bit, I’ll be back in about ten minutes. Alright if I leave you in the shop? I’ll be locking the door, so I don’t want you stuck,” I heard the man’s voice from somewhere in the shop, I assumed by the front door, and I shouted back.

 

“Yeah, I’m good, thank you!”  _ Though, honestly, I could go for some more of that chamomile... _

 

“Great! If you need more tea, it’s behind the counter. Help yourself!” I furrowed my brows as the shop door closed.  _ Had I said that aloud?  _ I didn’t think I had, but freewriting often jumbled the thoughts in my head - it was entirely possible I’d mixed up the things that stayed inside with the things I said aloud.

 

I stood, mug in hand, to search for the tea. A part of me felt it was odd that this man, whom I’d only just met, was allowing me free run of his shop; in the context of his demeanor and the type of shop he was running, though, it didn’t seem quite so strange. I quickly found the electric kettle behind the counter and switched it on, then pulled out a new tea bag. As I waited for the water to boil, I let my eyes peruse the contents of the shop.

 

One corner, as I’d previously noticed, had an immense selection of dried herbs, and a table across from it was littered with various bowls of crystals. A wall of shelves housed some salt crystal lamps, a few crystal balls, and sets of tarot cards. The other side of the shop could’ve been a jungle for all the plants, with some wooden signs indicating which herbs were which, some identifying the flowers near where I’d been seated. Other pots and planters were left unlabeled, hiding near the back of the store. Several tables had been set out next to the bookshelves in my little corner; the shelves, naturally, contained books on everything magical, while the tables were covered with a myriad of boxes in all shapes and sizes. There originally seemed very little rhyme or reason to the organization, but if I’d been paying closer attention when I first entered the shop, it would’ve been fairly easy to find what I was looking for.

 

Once the water had boiled, I poured it into the mug and added the milk and sugar. As I waited for it to cool, I finished my scan of the shop. In the back corner, behind the unlabeled plants, was a display of candles and some darker, more occult-looking items. I even noticed an animal skull, and vials of something sludgy. Then my eyes caught on something bright yellow.

 

Sitting on the staircase, which presumably led up to either a second floor -  _ no, wait, he’s got it cordoned off, it’s more likely a flat _ \- was the cat. It stared at me, eyes wide but pupils in slits, before sauntering down to the floor and approaching me. I wasn’t the biggest cat person, but I knelt down to pet it as it purred and rubbed against my legs.

 

“Wow, Margery usually hates customers. You must be something special.”


	3. "You don’t have to believe in something for it to work."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phil helps Dan with his writing (not like THAT, get ya minds out of the gutter).

I’d left to drop off a small herbal mixture for the lovely old woman down the street - she had trouble making the walk to the shop - and had seen the boy through the window as I returned. He was smiling softly, petting Margery, and had another cup of tea in his hand. I opened the door gently, to avoid startling him.

 

He was so much calmer than he’d been when he entered the shop, and it made me smile. “Wow, Margery usually hates customers. You must be something special,” I tried not to put  _ too _ much meaning into the statement, but it was true: Margery was the best judge of character, and I trusted her implicitly. 

 

Regardless, I got to see the adorable flush as the boy straightened back up. “Oh, well, uhm, that’s, uh...thanks?” I could feel the slight tingle of nerves and anxiety, but it was still far less intense than when he’d arrived.  _ Glad the tea is doing its job _ . I gave him a smile as I approached the counter.

 

“I hope you don’t mind, but I need to get back there to log the delivery on my laptop,” I pointed to the innermost section of the counter, and he shuffled out past me awkwardly, mumbling an apology. “It’s fine,” I laughed, making a few notes before closing the laptop. “How is your article coming?” I knew he’d had no interest in talking about it, before I had left the shop, but I was insatiably curious.

 

Even more so when his face flushed again, and I got a  _ sexual _ vibe from him.  _ What on earth is he writing, some smutty article or book or something? _ I tried to keep my own expression neutral - reacting to other people’s thoughts and feelings tended to freak them out.

 

“Oh, uh, it’s going alright. I have, well, quite a bit left to write. But it’s due Friday,” his voice dropped, along with his expression. “I’d better get on with it,” he said, turning slowly toward the table and his open laptop.

 

As he settled into the chair and began typing, I got a brilliant idea. Wandering around the shop, I grabbed some items - mostly jade and quartz, some carnelian, and a few sticks of cinnamon - and put them all in an oak bowl, which I set on the table next to his mug. “To help with your concentration,” I smiled. 

 

“You know I don’t believe in that stuff,” his hands paused on the keyboard and he stared at me for a moment. Despite it, I smiled and walked away.

 

“You don’t have to believe in something for it to work,” I tossed casually over my shoulder as I returned to my own work, checking inventory and managing a few more orders that had come in.

 

Though he didn’t respond, I could feel the air in the room change slightly, and he began typing more fervently.  _ “Doesn’t work”, huh? _ I smirked, then busied myself making some coffee. Before the boy - Dan was his name, though I couldn’t very well  _ tell  _ him I knew that - could come find me to ask, I’d set a steaming mug in front of him, along with cream and sugar.

 

“I thought you might like some coffee,” I said, keeping my tone casual. He was confused, then incredulous, then wary - I could feel the sensations running alongside my own emotions, and the roller-coaster was a bit challenging to manage.

 

“How did you…?” he started, then just stared. I put on my best defense, a small smile, and returned to the counter. Unplugging my laptop, I made my way around the store to check on our stock - usually, in the winter, we ran out of tea fairly quickly.  _ I’ll have to order some more candles as well, we’re low _ , I made the note in my system, then returned my laptop to its spot.

 

Dan had been quiet since I’d left him the coffee, the  _ tak-tak-tak _ of the keyboard the only sound aside from my footsteps. I pushed open the door to my storeroom, grabbing the pitcher off its shelf and filling it in the little sink.

 

As I made my way slowly around the shop, checking on some of the more delicate flowers and watering whichever plants needed it, I could feel a growing anxiety coming off Dan. I’d passed him already, watering everything that required it, and was just finishing up the last plant in the back - some nightshade. I could feel his eyes on me, and I tried not to be  _ too  _ flattered.

 

“What’s wrong?” I asked, empty pitcher in hand as I made my way to where he was seated, trying desperately to pretend he hadn’t been staring at me. 

 

“Don’t you, uhm, need to water this one?” He pointed to the tiny succulent I kept on the table. 

 

_ How adorable, he’s worried I might have missed one _ . “No, that one rarely needs water. But thank you for your concern, I know the little guy appreciates it,” I grinned, and he looked even more uncomfortable for a moment. “Everything going well with your article?” I asked, and his face lit up with another genuine smile.

 

“Yes, actually, I got a burst of...inspiration…” his gaze drifted to the bowl I’d left on the counter and his eyes narrowed. But he snapped out of it quickly, shaking his head. “I got this burst of inspiration,” he continued, “and I’m actually almost finished!” I felt a tickling of pride intertwined with his excitement. “I really just need to proofread, which I can do from home, so I can, y’know, get out of your hair,” he amended, and the excitement was replaced with something sadder.

 

“Well I’m glad you finished your article, though I can’t say I’m glad to see you go,” I took the chance, hoping the sadness meant what I thought it did. “You should come again, sometime. It’s nice to have company aside from Margery,” the cat meowed from her perch on the staircase, and I held my breath, waiting for an answer.

 

Though he didn’t speak for a few moments, I felt the pulse of brightness. “Yeah, I’d like that. This is...you have a really nice shop,” he added, and I jumped, rushing back to the counter.

 

“Can’t forget your herbs!” I called back to the very surprised Dan, returning with the two small plastic bags.

 

“Oh! I would’ve definitely walked out without those, thank you! How much do I owe? For that, and the drinks?” I knew my answer before he’d even asked the question, smiling as he packed up his things and shrugged his jacket back on.

 

“No charge,” I felt the refusal rising, so I had an excuse at the ready. “As a thank you for holding down the fort while I ran out to deliver Mrs. Pearson’s order. Just promise to come by again,” I added, enjoying the light flush I got to see, and the bubble of excitement I couldn’t see but could certainly  _ feel _ coming from the boy.

 

“Oh, okay, I will. Definitely.” He smiled, another real one, and opened the door to the shop. “I’ll, uh, see you soon?” I waved a hand in his direction.

 

“See you soon, Dan,” I couldn’t help it. I wanted to say his name aloud, hear it, and I loved the little smile it earned me in the seconds before he realized that he hadn’t actually told me his name.


	4. “I’d tell you, but you wouldn’t believe me."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dan gets to the bottom (ha) of the mystery (I'm not sorry that was a fantastic pun).

**Dan POV**

I hadn’t said my name, had I? Maybe he read it over my shoulder? But no, I never added it to my articles...Had I sent an email or something, and he saw my name? No, I hadn’t even asked to connect to the Wi-Fi. Was he…?

 

_ Nope, I do not believe in anything that can’t be explained by science.  _

 

But still, the thought plagued me for most of the evening, and I couldn’t focus on editing my article. Fortunately, cooking typically calmed me down, as it did tonight. By the time I was munching on my pasta, complete with a semi-homemade sauce, I was ready to do some proofreading.

 

I still wasn’t sure where the burst of inspiration had come from, but I  _ refused _ to believe that little bowl had anything to do with it.  _ Magic doesn’t exist _ . I repeated it over and over in my head, but it didn’t explain why I’d suddenly had six more tips in the span of half an hour, where it had taken me two weeks to come up with the first four. 

 

After correcting a few typos, some run-on sentences, and rewording a few of the tips to make them “catchier”, I settled onto my sofa to watch some Netflix.

 

\-----------------------------------------------------

 

I was trying not to look desperate, but something about that shop was drawing me back.  _ Maybe the cute guy, _ my heart jumped in, but I shut it down quickly. I didn’t like mysteries, so I wanted to know  _ how _ he knew my name, that was all.

 

It wasn’t early by any standards, as I wasn’t a fan of being up before the sun and I’d spent some time running through my article once more before sending it to the team. I pushed my bag up on my shoulder as I opened the door, the light jingle of the bell announcing my entrance. 

 

The man emerged from the back room with a smile -  _ I swear, is he always smiling? It puts the sun to shame, though, _ I tried to rein in my thoughts.  _ I’m here for  _ one _ thing only, and it isn’t to fall for some guy _ . 

 

“Ah, you’ve returned!” Something on my face must’ve given away my annoyance, because he called me out as I approached the counter. “Let me guess, you can’t figure out how I knew your name, right?” When I scoffed, he laughed, and I felt my cheeks turn red.

 

“Well, obviously, I didn’t tell you my name, so how could you possibly know?” I grumbled, not willing to meet his eyes.

 

“I’d tell you, but you wouldn’t believe me. You don’t  _ believe _ in all this stuff,” his fingers wiggled in the air as he said ‘believe’, and I rolled my eyes.

 

“So, what, you’re psychic or something?” I kept my tone casual, but the thought scared me a bit.  _ Can he read my mind? Banana, potato, chair, uh… _ I wasn’t sure what to be thinking, or if that even worked, or if he could even read my mind, but I was suddenly  _ very _ concerned.

 

“Not the way you’re thinking,” he smiled, then laughed - I noticed his tongue poke through his teeth as he did, before he covered it with a hand. “I mean, you’re  _ probably _ thinking I can read your mind, which I can’t.” He stopped at that, though, and didn’t offer further explanation.

 

“Okay, sure, so let’s say you  _ are _ psychic, what exactly is that supposed to mean?” I furrowed my brows, still confused at how he’d figured out my name, and concerned for what else he might know about me.

 

“I don’t know,” he started, voice lifting a bit as he turned and began to make some type of beverage behind the counter. “I mean, you don’t  _ believe  _ in this stuff, so does it really matter?” I could hear the teasing tone, so I crossed my arms and tried to look annoyed.

 

“Fine, sure, I  _ believe _ ,” I drew out the word, clearly being sarcastic, “now will you just tell me?” I was annoyed and cynical, but he hadn’t yet offered a viable explanation for knowing my name, and my curiosity was killing me.

 

He turned back then, setting a cup of coffee in front of me. “Cream and two sugars,” he smiled as my jaw dropped, then he turned to his laptop and began typing, pulling up some documents, and generally ignoring me.

 

“You  _ have  _ to tell me!” I knew I was being whiny, but I wasn’t about to walk out of here with nothing to show for my efforts but a cup of coffee.  _ It was a lucky guess, anyway, plenty of people take their coffee that way _ . He turned toward me, one cheek lifted in a smirk.

 

“Feelings. Vibes. Emotions. Senses. Sometimes the specifics, like your name, or how you like your coffee.” He said, deadpan, and my brain struggled to keep up. 

 

“I...don’t believe you,” I sputtered the words out, waiting for him to give some kind of different explanation. 

 

“That’s the funny thing about all this,” he said, turning back to his laptop, “it doesn’t really matter if you believe it or not.” 

 

“Well, prove it then!” I knew it was a childish thing to say, but I needed  _ something _ , my brain was reeling and I had a really tough time just  _ accepting  _ things.  _ I mean, they could’ve all just been really lucky coincidences _ , the left half of my brain tried to reason.

 

He sighed and pivoted toward me, leaning a hip against the counter and crossing his arms. “And how would you like me to do that?” My mind suddenly emptied of any possible way I could ask him to prove what he could do. I stared at him, blankly, for a solid minute before he spoke up.


	5. He's the Knight of Wands. You predicted him.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phil proves his abilities, Dan legit has no control over his own thoughts.

**Phil POV**

I had no clue why I was putting so much effort into proving this to him, when I would’ve usually ended the conversation by now. People who believed believed, those who didn’t, didn’t.  _ You know exactly why you’re doing this, he’s the Knight of Wands. You predicted him. _ I’d been racking my brain all evening to figure out why Dan was so important, when I recalled the tarot reading I’d done the month before.  _ He’s the Knight of Wands. _

 

“How about this,” I suggested, “you go stand on the other side of the shop, and I’ll stay here. Then think of something meaningful - happy or sad or frustrating or whatever you want - and I’ll tell you the kind of feeling I’m getting from you. Will that suffice?” He nodded, but didn’t move, so I uncrossed my arms and gestured to the part of the shop I couldn’t see.

 

A few moments after he’d disappeared around the corner, he called out. “Alright, I’m ready, should I start thinking about it now?”

 

“Yeah, go ahead,” I waited in silence. And all I could feel was his immense curiosity and doubt. “Stop focusing on what  _ I’m  _ doing, focus on whatever you’re meant to be thinking of,” I told him. 

 

Slowly, the sensation changed. Something soft, pleasant, and playful. Then the tone changed completely, as if he’d switched to an entirely different thought.  _ Testing me, is he? _ I smiled. This one was far more negative, the same doubt I’d felt earlier, but deeper and more...focused, focused on himself. That feeling didn’t last long, and he switched to something else. It felt less solid, like he wasn’t sure what it was -  _ a feeling, then, not quite a memory. _ I’d become rather adept at interpreting what I sensed over the years, and this was no different. Until his thoughts hit me in  _ very _ clear detail.  _ Is he...picturing me, us, together?  _ The feeling had a foggy lightness, exactly what I’d imagine from kiss,  _ the _ kiss he was imagining, and it was struck through with a flash of lust for something far more than a kiss. Suddenly, it all cut off, replaced with his earlier skepticism.

 

“Alright, so what was I thinking about?” I raised an eyebrow at him, and he leaned on the counter across from me with a smug look.

 

“Something nice, light and playful. Perhaps a good memory of a close childhood friend?” I was spitballing, but the look on his face - and the wave of surprise - was enough confirmation.

 

“Fine, not bad. My little brother.” He grinned, then, smug once more.  _ Does he really think he fooled me by remembering multiple things? _

 

“Then doubt, crippling self-doubt.” His shock was a sweet victory, but he didn’t elaborate on what caused it; it broke my heart, though, that he had  _ ever  _ experienced a time where he believed in himself so little.

 

“Okay, I guess you noticed that change, then,” realization hit his features and his face turned bright red. “Uh, you don’t have to guess the last one, I believe you,” he waved a hand dismissively and dropped his gaze to the countertop, and I could’ve felt the embarrassment rolling off him even without my abilities. Which was exactly why I couldn’t help it.

 

“Oh, but that one was the most fun!” I teased, watching him bury his head in his hands.

 

“No, really, you don’t have to,” he mumbled, leaning fully on the counter now. 

 

“But it was about me! Which meant I could see  _ everything _ ,” I paused, and it had the intended effect. Dan’s head shot up and, if at all possible, his blush deepened. “ _ Everything _ ,” I added with a smirk. He groaned, then, and his face returned to its previous position in his hands.

 

“I’m just gonna go now,” he mumbled, and I laughed. 

 

“Come on, now, it wasn’t  _ that _ bad,” I tried not to laugh again, because his embarrassment had ebbed a bit. “Besides, you still need to drink your coffee, or it’ll get cold,” I hummed under my breath, pushing the mug his way, and smiled a bit when it started to steam slightly.  _ Perfect temperature _ .

 

Dan’s head lifted, and realization struck through him as he met my gaze.

 

“Phil,” I said, answering his unasked question, and his jaw dropped. “If it’s about me, I get a clearer picture, remember?” I winked, and he dropped his eyes again, down to the coffee. He took a slow sip, evidently to steady himself, then looked up toward me again. 

 

“Can I hang out here for a bit?” I nodded, but he didn’t retreat to the table in the corner.

 

“You want to just chat, then?” I asked, getting the sense he wanted to know more about me, maybe  _ do _ something more with me. “You’ll have to control your thoughts,” I smirked, and he covered his face again.

 

“You’re exhausting, y’know,” he said into his hand. But I could see the corner of a smile, and his thoughts were inquisitive as opposed to annoyed.

 

“Oh! I’m an idiot,” I smacked my head, dashing out from behind the counter toward the bowls of crystals.  _ Amber, amber, amber, do I have any left?  _ Not finding the raw crystal, I moved toward the front of the store, where I had a small collection of crystal and stone jewelry. A simple band caught my eye, inlaid with a single strip of amber, and I pulled off the price tag.

 

As I returned to Dan, presenting the ring, I couldn’t help but laugh at his thoughts.

 

“No, I’m not proposing, calm down. It has amber in it, it’ll block most of your thoughts and feelings from me. Would that make being around me less exhausting?” I wanted him to be comfortable around me, although I wasn’t a huge fan of cutting off my abilities like that, especially because of how important he was. I’d become rather dependent on those clues to guide my own thoughts and actions, but it felt like the right move, to give him a choice.

 

He relaxed a little, and reached for the ring. As soon as it touched his fingers -  _ and our fingers touched - _ all his emotions and thoughts dissipated. I felt a little lost, but smiled anyway as he slipped it on his finger; it fit his pinky perfectly. “Okay, but does it really work? How do I know you’re not tricking me?” 

 

“Well, I can’t really prove it the same way I can prove what I can do, but you’re welcome to try to test me.” I gestured nonspecifically at him, and he closed his eyes in thought. It was a little unnerving, knowing he was thinking about  _ something _ but not being able to identify much about it. After a minute, he opened his eyes and stared at me expectantly.

 

“It might’ve been a negative thing, but I can’t tell for sure.” I answered his look honestly. His face erupted into a smile, and I was glad to see the effects even though I couldn’t feel them.

 

“Three things, again, and you only sort of got one. Okay, I believe you,” he looked down at the ring and began twisting it on his finger. “So, tell me about yourself,” he brought his eyes back to me, and I couldn’t help but smile. They were a beautiful brown, something between coffee and milk chocolate, and my mind emptied of everything about myself.

  
“Well, what do you want to know?” I asked, “I can’t really just  _ tell _ now, y’know,” I smirked and watched him think as his fingers continued to twist the ring.


	6. “That seems fairly harmless, maybe I can try this one out."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dan wants to try some magic himself.

**Dan POV**

We talked for most of the afternoon; I’d asked a lot of questions about how he found out about his abilities and, generally, how he’d gotten into owning a shop like this. A few customers had wandered in and made some purchases, but it wasn’t too busy, so we had a lot of time to talk. He spoke fondly of his grandmother, who’d been psychic as well, but he hadn’t known her long before she passed. 

 

I didn’t delve too much into the details of my own life, sticking with the surface. I never felt comfortable talking about my family, and certainly not about my own failures, and Phil seemed to understand and didn’t pry much.

 

A woman was in the shop, now, perusing some of the occult-type items in the back of the store, and Phil had left me to go see if she needed assistance. I stepped back from the counter and wandered around the other parts of the shop. Almost everything was well-labeled, but there were no indications as to what each thing was supposed to  _ do _ .  _ How does he remember all this stuff? _ I couldn’t help but wonder, running fingers across the various crystals and sniffing at the different herbs.

 

I noticed the discarded price tag, then, from the ring he’d given me.  _ Forty-five pounds? He can’t be serious, I’ll have to pay him for this... _ I realized I’d been twisting the ring again, and felt a bit guilty.  _ Maybe I should just give it back,  _ I considered, slipping the ring from my finger and re-attaching the tag. I set it down in an empty slot of the ring holder, only to feel Phil’s presence over my shoulder.

 

“Honestly, it’s fine, I want you to keep it. Don’t worry about the price,” I could almost feel his breath on my shoulder as he peeked over it - I was a couple inches taller than him - and it made me shiver. “ _ Please _ keep it, if you can’t control your thoughts,” he teased, and I quickly reached for the ring. After discarding the price tag, I slipped it on again, and turned back to face him.

 

“So, uh, what’d the lady want?” I said, hoping to distract him from the blush creeping up my cheeks. My fingers went to the ring, twisting it slightly, just to have something to do with my hands. 

 

“She wanted something for a curse, something we don’t really supply.” He didn’t elaborate, so I didn’t push it, but my general curiosity had been piqued.

 

“Wait, you’re telling me people actually  _ believe _ in this stuff? And use it to do spells, not just for the ‘calming properties’ or home remedies or whatever?” I realized I was coming off as possibly offensive, so I dropped my gaze to his shoes and backtracked. “I mean, I guess I believe in some of this stuff, but surely it can’t be that... _ blatant _ ? Spells, curses, stuff like that?” I felt the hole I was digging myself into, so I stopped.  _ Oh, he’s going to  _ hate _ me now, I just made fun of his entire way of life, fucking hell... _

 

But he just chuckled and answered anyway. “Absolutely. People believe what they want to believe. Some of it is  _ complete  _ bull, but some is very valid and functional. I get both types of people in here - those who want to create a love potion from random herbs and those who know  _ very well _ what they’re doing. It’s only the second kind you need to worry about,” I sucked in a breath. 

 

“ _ Worry? _ ” Suddenly I  _ was _ very worried. Not that I ever interacted with anyone enough to make any enemies, but if this shit was  _ real _ , then did I need to start watching my back?

 

“Calm down, you’re stressing  _ me  _ out now,” Phil let out a breathy laugh, turning toward the counter at the center of the shop. “You really don’t have anything to worry about, most people are of the former variety, and the ones who know what they’re doing are usually pretty benign. Even that lady just wanted to set a curse on her ex-husband, so you’re not in any danger.” I followed him, intrigued.

 

“Can  _ anybody _ do stuff like that? Or just people with…” I didn’t know the right word, so I waved a hand in his general direction.

 

“Most things anyone can do, if they know what they’re doing, though there are a few things that are only possible when you have some type of abilities of your own,” he returned his focus to his laptop. 

 

“Oh,” I said, twisting the ring and dropping my eyes in thought.  _ Could  _ I _ do any of these things? I mean, I don’t know exactly what I’d want to do, but still... _ the idea was enticing. 

 

“Hey, will you be alright if I run out for a few minutes? Another couple deliveries, but they’re nearby so it shouldn’t take long,” I looked up and nodded, and he grabbed a few small bags and filled them with various items from around the shop before heading out and locking the door behind him.

 

I let my curiosity drive my movement, starting where I’d left off at the jewelry and bypassing the bookshelves to study the various boxes on the table. Some were labeled, others weren’t, but I noticed a small placard with the word “Cantrips” on it. “The hell is a cantrip?” I said to nobody, pulling the definition up on my phone. “ _ Mischievous or playful act; trick _ ,” I read aloud, then slipped my phone back into my pocket to study the various boxes.

  
I hummed, scanning the labels -  _ love, jealousy, misfortune, luck, health, illness, confidence, passion, sleep _ \- I paused at ‘sleep’. “That seems fairly harmless, maybe I can try this one out,” there were a few boxes behind the ‘sleep’ label, so I grabbed a small one. “Now, does this thing come with instructions, or…” I trailed off, opening the box. I barely noticed the items and slip of paper in the box before my vision went foggy and I collapsed to the floor.


	7. Solace. He wants to find solace.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phil brings the passed-out Dan to his flat to recover.

Phil POV  
As I got closer to the shop, I felt something bad swirling in my gut. Something’s wrong. I quickened my pace, unlocking the door and swinging it wide. To see Dan, sprawled on the floor.

“Dan? Dan! Are you alright?” His eyes were closed, but he appeared to be breathing. My heart, racing in my chest, calmed just the tiniest bit knowing he was still alive. Then I noticed the empty space on the table, and the discarded box, its contents scattered across the floor around Dan. The cantrips, I should’ve warned him about them…I rushed over, checking the box and returning the items to their container. Oh thank god, it was just a sleep one. And not too powerful, at that…I did some quick mental calculations, concluding that he’d be out for about another hour.

“Alright, you, let’s get you upstairs. Can’t have you scaring my patrons,” I smiled fondly; he looked so peaceful and content while asleep, despite the odd situation. He was surprisingly light, so I managed to lift him and carry him up the stairs to my flat. Laying him gently on the sofa, I returned to the shop and scribbled a quick note about closing early. I stuck it on the door, locked up, and shut the lights off before returning to the still-sleeping Dan.

I made some tea and sat at the breakfast bar to add some notes about my deliveries to my laptop, waiting for Dan to wake up; I finished quickly, though, and found myself staring at him. I wonder what he dreams about. I pondered for a few moments, thinking about everything I knew about him. Solace. He wants to find solace, I decided, standing when I noticed his eyes scrunch and open.

“Morning, sleeping beauty,” I laughed, pouring another cup of tea and heating it. “You should really be more careful, you were one box away from the ‘passion’ cantrip - that one’s pretty intense. You’d be in my flat for a very different reason,” I turned back to him, raising an eyebrow.

“Mm, what happened?” His voice was thick with sleep, and he raised his head slightly before groaning and dropping it back to the sofa. I brought the steaming mug over to him and set it on the coffee table before shoving his legs out of the way, making just enough room to sit.

“You opened a sleeping cantrip, silly,” I said. “Were you hoping to knock me out?” I knew he had no malintentions, but I was curious. “Or were you trying to see if you could do a spell?” He lifted his head when I said this, so I took it as an affirmative. “Just ask me, next time,” I laughed, sipping my own tea. “You’re lucky it wasn’t a more dangerous cantrip, they aren’t reversible. They’ve got to just run their course,” he nodded solemnly, then made an attempt to sit up.

“Why….ugh, why does my head hurt so much?” He winced as he forced himself upright, reaching for the tea. 

“Aftereffects, sorry about that,” I smiled sympathetically. As he took a sip, his face scrunched up reflexively. “And that would be the eucalyptus. It’ll help with the headache, so be sure to drink it all,” I added, and he took another tentative sip.

“How long was I out? What time is it?” Dan suddenly looked rather worried, attempting to stand, and I laid a hand on his arm.

“Calm down, it’s only half six. Are you hungry? I was just about to start making dinner, and I’d be glad to make you some as well.” I let my hand linger on his arm for a moment more, and he stared at it before lifting his gaze to meet mine.

“I wouldn’t want to intrude, you’ve already taken me into your home…” his eyes wandered, then, around the flat.

“It’s perfectly fine, you aren’t intruding. In fact, it’ll be nice to have someone around, aside from Margery,” I smiled, and the cat lifted her head from where she’d settled on my windowsill. “Please, you’re still recovering, and I insist,” I hoped he wanted to stay, and just needed the extra little push, as he had in the shop yesterday.

He tried again to stand, managing to get to his feet, but he was by no means stable. I stood as well, catching the hand he flung out to steady himself. “I, uh, I guess I can stay, if you don’t mind,” he said, blinking a few times. His grip on my hand was tight at first, but had loosened. I made no move to let go, and he didn’t either, and we stood that way for a very long minute.

The fact that I couldn’t sense what he was feeling unsettled me, and I cleared my throat as I dropped his hand. “I’m, uh, going to go get things started. Stir fry okay?” I checked, heading toward the kitchen and pulling a few things from the fridge.

“Yeah, er, that’s great. Do you, uh, need some help or anything?” I heard him ask; he hadn’t moved. I definitely don’t want him so close until I have a better idea of what’s going on in his head...the last thing I need to do is mess something up, scare him away. I shook my head.

“No. Like I said, you’re still recovering, probably not the best idea to hand you a knife,” I chuckled, and was pleased to hear him settle back on the sofa.

“Okay,” his voice was soft, and we were left in silence as I prepared the vegetables and chicken. Soon, the sizzling of the pan filled the quiet, and I pulled out a couple plates and some silverware.

“Do you-” I had been about to ask if he wanted something else to drink, but as I turned, he was standing right behind me. Had I stepped forward, as I’d intended, I would’ve run right into him.

“Oh! Sorry, I finished my tea, I was going to just wash out the mug,” he looked better already, and less wobbly, but being so close made me a bit unsteady. I stood out of the way, allowing him access to the sink, before continuing my question.

“Did you want anything to drink with dinner? I’ve got more tea, some soda, and wine. No liquor, though,” I watched him rinse out the mug, then he looked lost for a moment. “Just leave it in the sink, I’ll get to it later,” he set the mug down before answering.


	8. Shit, okay, that was definitely flirting.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dan gets tipsy enough to make a move.

**Dan POV**

“Some wine would be lovely, actually,” it had been...quite a day. Phil smiled -  _ I swear, he’s always smiling. Not that you’ll see me complaining _ . I stepped back behind the breakfast bar, out of his way, as he poured a glass of wine and set it in front of me.

 

_ I have no idea what I’m doing, what this is, or how Phil feels, but I  _ really _ hope this wine gives me some confidence _ . Apparently, it was no secret to Phil that I was into him, though he hadn’t brought it up since he’d seen my thoughts about it.  _ So the question is, does he have any interest in me? _ Half of my brain argued that, by inviting me to stay for dinner, he definitely felt  _ something _ , but the other half said I was looking too far into it, and he was just being friendly.

 

“Quit thinking so hard!” I shot a shocked glance up to Phil, who had set a delicious-looking chicken stir fry in front of me. “No, I don’t know  _ what  _ you’re thinking about, but I can tell you’re thinking too hard.” The smell of the stir fry actually made my mouth water, so I focused on that instead.

 

“This looks  _ amazing _ !” I gushed.

 

“Don’t say that til you’ve had a bite,” he cautioned, but I could see the small smile at the praise as he grabbed his own plate and made his way to the small dining table near the windowsill. Margery, evidently annoyed at being crowded, hopped down from her perch. As I followed Phil, the cat rubbed against my leg before trotting off to occupy our previous spots on the sofa. “She really does like you,” Phil noted, sitting and scooting his chair up to the table.

 

I did the same, then dug in. “ _ Mmmohmygod, _ ” I moaned, and Phil looked at me, eyebrows raised. I quickly covered my mouth as the blood rushed to my cheeks. “Sorry,” I mumbled around the food, “it’s just  _ really _ good.” I kept my head ducked, then took another bite.

 

“Don’t apologize,” Phil smirked at me, “just didn’t think I’d be getting turned on so early in the evening,” I nearly choked on my food, but he just lifted a piece of chicken to his mouth and chewed as I stared, trying to recover. The blush on my face, however, was not recovering anytime soon. “Your fault, really,” Phil said, swallowing and pointing his empty fork at me, “between the thoughts you were having earlier and the sounds you just made, it’s clear you need to work on controlling yourself.”

 

I downed half my glass of wine, pretending it was just to soothe my throat, but I was absolutely trying to get drunk at this point.  _ Shit, okay, that was definitely flirting.  _ I cleared my throat again, stalling for time to come up with a response. But Phil wasn’t watching me, so I returned to my food and opted to keep my mouth shut, lest I embarrass myself again.

 

The rest of the meal passed in silence; though it started out mildly uncomfortable, the unease faded as I got down to the last few bites. Before I could stand to take my plate to the kitchen, Phil had grabbed it and I was left at the table with my almost-empty glass.  _ Bottoms up, I suppose, _ I thought, taking the final sip and joining Phil.

 

My awkwardness returned as I realized this was a sort of “final” moment: I would return my glass, offer to help with dishes - which he would likely refuse - and I’d thank him for dinner and head home. My heart sank a little, but what could I even say to stay a little longer?

 

“Uhm,” I started, setting my glass down and scanning his flat for anything I could make conversation about -  _ honestly, anything to keep the evening going a bit longer _ . I knew how desperate it made me seem, but I was just getting to know Phil.  _ And I want to get to know him better _ . I tried to ignore the direction my mind had gone, eyes finally settling on something I recognized.

 

“Are these tarot cards?” I asked, walking over to the deck, set on a small desk. I brushed a finger across the top card, marveling at the archaic design. I startled as I felt a hand graze across my lower back, followed shortly by a glass of wine appearing in front of me. My hand touched his as I took the glass from him, and I’d be lying if I said my heart didn’t skip a beat.

 

“They are, indeed. My grandmother’s actually,” I noticed the faraway look in his eyes, as though he were remembering what he could about her. “Have you ever had your fortune told?” He second-guessed the question, though, as a laugh bubbled up from my chest. “No, of course you haven’t,” he laughed along with me, “you don’t  _ believe _ in those kinds of things.” I smiled as the hand returned to my back. “Probably best to save that for another time, though, it can get pretty heavy.” 

 

He guided me back toward the sofa, and my brain caught up with what had happened.  _ He’s touching me, and he handed me another glass of wine.  _ Suddenly, my heart was racing.  _ What does he hope will happen? What do  _ I _ want to happen? _ I sat on the edge of the sofa, suddenly a bit nervous, and took another sip of the wine.

 

“Calm down, would you?” Phil teased, eyes sparkling. “I’m not going to jump you, unless that’s what you want,” his eyebrows waggled at me, and I couldn’t help a small laugh from escaping. “Though, really, I have no idea  _ what _ you want,” he said, voice softer, and I tilted my head at him. “It’s a  _ very _ unusual experience for me, to not know what someone wants.” He left that hanging in the air between us, and I remembered that he could usually sense...well,  _ something _ . Feelings. Vibes. Thoughts. Whatever it was.

 

Then I remembered exactly  _ what _ he had seen from me, earlier that day.  _ Had it really only been earlier today? _ My face flushed, and I stared intently at the wine in my hand. Then made the split-second decision to be a little bold.

 

“You know  _ exactly _ what I want,” I said, face still hot, still afraid to meet his eyes. I slipped the amber ring off my finger and set it and the wine aside on the coffee table. I let my imagination run wild. Phil’s shocked expression terrified me at first, until it turned into a wicked grin. Then he  _ did _ jump me.


	9. "Do you have the ingredients for a love spell?”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dan may have to cancel their date for Saturday, but Phil's trying to be supportive.

**Phil POV**

I would be lying if I said it wasn’t one of the best nights I’d had in awhile - there were lots of benefits to my abilities, but knowing exactly what Dan wanted, and what he thought about me - that was an incredible turn on. We really didn’t go that far, having known each other for only a couple days, but I knew I was falling. I knew he was, too. 

 

Every time I thought about it, I couldn’t help the grin that snuck up to my lips, and a few of my patrons that had come through today thought I looked  _ particularly _ chipper. Dan had left last night with the promise to stop by again soon, but he had to focus on finishing a few projects first. And we both agreed he wouldn’t get much done if he tried to work from my shop.

 

I was lost in thought when the woman approached me, requesting a deck of  _ prettier _ tarot cards. 

 

“The ones on display are a bit solemn-looking, I was hoping for something a bit flashier, y’know?” I pasted on a smile, always polite.

 

“Sorry, ma’am, we don’t carry anything other than those,” I was trying not to be too annoyed with her, she was clearly of the ‘I don’t actually know anything about magic’ variety. “If you’d like to describe what you had in mind, I can order some in for you,” I was the only specialty shop in town, so I often went above and beyond to get what my customers were looking for.

 

As she described the vibe she was going for, and I got a better sense of the glittery, bright assault-on-the-eyes design, I began pulling up a few options on my laptop. She nodded to the one she liked best, and I placed the order. 

 

“Great, that’ll be here by the end of next week. Anything else I can help you with in the meantime?” I smiled again, though it was less forced.

 

“Actually, yes, do you have the ingredients for a love spell?” I had to hold back an exasperated sigh. Not to stereotype, but half the women that came into my shop were looking for some kind of romance-related quick fix - either that, or some form of revenge.

 

“Sure,” I obliged anyway, “what exactly is the goal? Make a specific someone fall for you? Keep your lover interested? Or something more general, to attract potential suitors?” Despite my question, I could feel I hadn’t hit the mark.

 

“Actually, I need something to make my son love me,” the answer shocked me - familial love was a rare request, but I was even more inclined to assist. “We haven’t spoken in ages, we...my husband and I, we kicked him out of the house and...it was a mistake. But he hates us now, and we want to...fix it, I guess. Or at least...try...” I nodded, thinking for a few moments, then held up a finger to let her know to wait at the counter while I grabbed a few items from around the shop.

 

I stopped by the raw crystals first, selecting some rose quartz, howlite, and a few types of agate, then pulled a small hazelwood bowl from under the table and passed the woman to grab a white candle. Once back at the counter, I broke up the larger chunks of crystal, placing them in the bowl around the candle, and set the finished ensemble before the woman.

 

“Howlite to enhance communication, especially the difficult kind, some agate to nurture, ground, and calm, and rose quartz - that’s the love bit,” I rarely took the time to explain my choices for spells, but the woman’s guilt was overwhelming and I truly felt sorry for her; I wanted her to understand what each piece did. “Light the candle in his presence, and that should help things along. That being said, it won’t work on its own, you need to take the first step. Open the path of communication,” I cautioned. Often, people misunderstood the nature of spells like this. They didn’t just...do the work for you.

 

“I understand,” she nodded solemnly, “how much?” I rang her up, carefully wrapping the bowl and candle to hold everything in place. “Thank you, so much,” her voice had changed as she took the bag, and I wished her the best of luck.

 

Not a moment after the door had shut, I got a text from Dan, and my heart jumped in my chest.

 

 **Dan:** _hey :)_

**Phil:** _ Hey there :) what’s up? _

 

I was a little surprised to see anything from him, as he’d told me he usually dove into a hole and blocked everything else out while writing his articles.

 

 **Dan:** _about Saturday...I may have to cancel, idk_

 

My heart dropped, then, and I felt my smile twist into half a frown.

 

**Phil:** _ That’s okay! Something wrong? _

**Dan:** _not wrong, just family issues. they invited me for dinner. I don’t even want to really talk to them but my mum basically begged...idk if I even want to go tho...nvm maybe we should keep the plans for Sat_

 

Sympathy swelled in my chest, after the woman I’d just helped.

 

**Phil:** _ Don’t even think about it! You should go, you never know what might happen :) We can reschedule _

 

While I was a little disappointed at going longer without seeing him, I couldn’t very well recommend he avoid his family. Nothing good ever came of that.

 

 **Dan:** _not sure...we were on pretty shit terms last we spoke...idk if I want to face them_

 **Phil:** _Not to insert myself in your business, but would you feel more comfortable if you had someone else with you?_

 

I knew it was a bit early in our...well, whatever it was, to be meeting his parents and whatnot, but I felt like it was the right suggestion to make. And my gut didn’t often steer me wrong.

 

 **Dan:** _would you actually come with me? that would make things a lot better, I think_

**Dan:** _ I mean if thats not weird for you to like...meet my parents and stuff _

**Dan:** _ thats weird isn’t it shit sorry forget I asked _

 

I couldn’t help but laugh at his successive texts, and tried to respond quickly to stop his minor freak-out session.

 

**Phil:** _ Not weird at all, I’m glad to go with you :) really _

**Dan:** _ okay, thanks :) meet me at 7, at 1277 jackdaw ln? sorry to ruin our date _

 

I chuckled, then. I was halfway through typing “ _ That wouldn’t ruin it, any time spent with you is worthwhile,” _ in true cheesy fashion, but my thoughts were interrupted by another patron entering the store. Quickly finishing the text, I sent it and turned my attention to the older gentleman.


	10. He’ll be better off without me, anyway.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Legitimately just a giant roller coaster for Dan. Hold on tight. 
> 
> Tw vague references to past self-harm.

**Dan POV**

**Phil:** _That wouldn’t ruin it, any time spent with you is worthwhile_

 

I’d be lying if I said my chest didn’t flutter a bit at the words. In fact, I read them a few times simply because I could.

 

Then returned to my research. I told Phil I had a few articles to write before we could hang out this weekend, but I had already finished the one I still had on my plate and had sent it in this morning. My real goal - and I’d made sure to put the amber ring back on before lying about it - was to do some research on all this magical non... _ stuff _ .  _ Quit calling it nonsense, obviously some of it is real. _ It was such a huge part of Phil’s life, and I wanted to understand it better. Maybe impress him a bit, since he expected me to know absolutely nothing about it.

 

The first things that caught my eye were some sites detailing the uses of various herbs and crystals. I tried -  _ really _ tried - to read through them, but it was like rote memorization, so I tried a new search - ‘psychic’. I didn’t know if that’s exactly how Phil described himself, but the word was vague enough that I figured I could at least get going in the right direction.

 

There were a lot of ads for nearby psychics promising to read my future, palm readings and tarot readings and the like. Then I saw an online version of the tarot reading - one of those game-style ones where you ask a question and click to pick a card, or ask it to read your future.

 

“What the hell,” I said, shrugging and giving it a click. I chose the basic fortune option, which would give me three cards - a past, present, and future. It wanted me to ‘define the timeframe’, so I opted for the past month, this month, and the next month; precise enough, but not  _ too _ specific.

 

“Ooookay, here goes nothing,” I clicked the ‘draw’ button, and the first card flipped to reveal the Chariot card. I wasn’t entirely sure of it’s meaning, but I noticed a small plus button that expanded into a brief description. “Completion and triumph,” I read aloud to my empty apartment. “I guess that’s accurate, I mean, I did finally finish the longer piece I was writing for that blog site.” I nodded, then, and clicked ‘draw’ again.

 

“Okay, this month. The Ace of Wands,” I clicked on the plus, reading through the description, “artistic inspiration and  _ masculine creative energy _ ? What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” I reread the brief description, eyebrows furrowed.  _ Could it be...talking about Phil? _ I thought on it for a moment. He had helped me finish my article, with whatever magic he had done, I suppose.  _ And he certainly gave off some...masculine energy. _

 

Though I wasn’t entirely convinced, I clicked for the final card. The Death card stared back at me from the screen, and I was suddenly reeling.  _ Am I...going to die?  _ I had never admitted it to anyone, but I had gone through a really rough time shortly after leaving home. I’d done my best to bury the evidence of that abysmal spiral, but makeup wasn’t permanent, and the scars wouldn’t ever fully disappear.

 

In shock, I closed out of the page. Then all the other tabs that I’d had open for research. Despite myself, I could feel the doubt creeping in. All the  _ you aren’t good enough _ ’s and the  _ everyone hates you _ ’s that I thought I’d put behind me were resurfacing.  _ Was that article really any good? I’d been so distracted with Phil, I’d barely even proofread it before sending it in _ …

 

_ And now you know all this shit is real, Phil proved it, _ the thought wandered in with the rest of my self-hatred,  _ which means you’ll be dead by the end of next month _ . That one sentence froze every other thought in its tracks.  _ Phil...if he likes me so much...I have to distance myself. I can’t let him get hurt once I’m gone… _

 

\---------------------------------------

 

I never responded to Phil’s text. I couldn’t bring myself to say a word to him, not after that revelation. The truth was, I had been sitting in a dark silence for nearly twenty-four hours pondering my inevitable demise.  _ He’ll be better off without me, anyway. _

 

It wasn’t until I got a message from my mum checking to see if I would still be at dinner in half an hour that reality rushed back in.  _ Fuck, fucking shit, I told Phil to meet me at my parents’ house… _ and it was too late to cancel, to tell him not to show up.

 

Societal obligations temporarily drowning out the depression, I rushed a quick shower and grumbled as I acknowledged how curly my hair would be once it dried.  _ Not that it matters, I’ll be dead soon anyway. _ I shrugged on my winter jacket and began the brisk walk to what would inevitably be a very awkward and uncomfortable dinner.  _ At least I’ll see my parents before I’m gone. I bet they’ll feel pretty awful about what they did to me, though, when I die. _ The thought was bittersweet - they’d never actually apologized, and I was still resentful.

 

Despite my fear, Phil wasn’t waiting at the door.  _ Only three minutes late, not bad, _ I congratulated myself, though I got the sinking feeling my mum would make some kind of passive-aggressive comment about it.  _ Here goes nothing _ . I knocked on the door then stuffed my chilly hand back in my pocket, bouncing a bit in an attempt to warm up.

 

The door swung open, and a gust of warmth drew me in. Or, I thought it was the warmth, but  _ Phil _ was standing in front of me, my parents just behind him. And he was beaming. I dropped my gaze, shuffling uncomfortably.  _ You can’t lead him on when you know you’ll be gone soon. _

 

“Daniel, please come in,” my mum announced over Phil’s shoulder. He moved out of the way, and I stepped inside as the door shut behind me. “I’m so glad you brought Phil along, it’s been an absolute pleasure chatting with you, hon,” she addressed Phil. I was shocked at the kindness in her voice.  _ Clearly, Phil hasn’t told them that we were together, or he’d be out on his ass in the snow by now _ . 

 

Phil tried to catch my eye as I hung my jacket in the front closet, but I kept my head down, following my parents into the dining room. My fingers were drawn back to the amber ring he’d given me, and I twisted it nervously.  _ I’m glad he can’t hear my thoughts, that would only hurt him more. _

 

“Mrs. Howell, you have a lovely home,” Phil said, every ounce the perfect guest I’d expect him to be, as he pulled out a chair and sat down. My dad did the same, and I hesitantly took the place opposite where my mum would be sitting as she brought in the casserole.

 

“Oh, thank you, dear!” She smiled, blushing and setting the dish on the table. “Oh! One moment,” she bustled back into the kitchen, and I was suddenly struck with how  _ normal _ this all was.  _ Had they just invited me back, expecting me to forgive everything, and that would be it? _ My face flushed with anger, though I couldn’t bring myself to say anything with Phil right there.

 

My mum returned, lighting the small white candle in the centerpiece on the table - a bowl of colorful rocks, with the now-lit candle in the middle. I lowered my gaze - the domesticity of this whole thing was unnerving.  _ Where was the shouting, the disappointment? _ Maybe they were winding me up, waiting for just the right moment to dig into me - once I’d had a bite of casserole, perhaps, so I could spit it out unceremoniously across the table. 

 

Phil reached for the food, and I was mildly surprised at his forwardness, until he offered the first piece to my mum, then my dad, then to me. I gave him a small smile, though I didn’t think I was convincing anyone. He served himself last, and we all took a bite.

 

“Mrs. Howell, I must say, I’ve had many delicious home-cooked meals in my lifetime, but this is  _ by far _ the best.” Phil said, and my mum was blushing again.  _ Ever the charmer, that Phil _ . I smiled again, but it quickly dropped as I remembered what my future held.

 

“It’s just a simple recipe, surely not the  _ best _ ,” she said, though I could hear how sincerely she appreciated the compliment. “Now, please, tell us how you two met?” I assumed the question was directed at Phil, given that he’d been the one talking, but the silence drew my gaze up from my plate and I found everyone staring at  _ me _ .

 

Figuring the truth was a safe enough option, I cleared my throat to respond. “Uh, well I was looking for some fresh herbs for a pasta dish I was making, and Phil, uh, owns a shop that has fresh herbs year-round, even in the winter, and uh...yeah…” I decided not to elaborate, for fear of saying something that might tarnish my parents’ opinion of Phil.  _ I couldn’t care less what they think of me, but Phil...he’s such a good person, I’d hate for them to treat him the way they did me when I told them. _

 

“Dan had some work to do, so I let him hang out in the shop for a bit. We got to chatting and, well, the rest is history!” Phil added, and I ducked my head. My parents really didn’t know about my writing, and I hoped they wouldn’t ask.

 

I took another bite as Phil asked my parents what they did for work, glad to have the attention focused elsewhere. The rest of the evening passed this way, with Phil carrying on polite conversation with my parents and very little being required from me. At first, I was grateful, but my mood turned sour as the time passed and not a single mention was made of the last time we had spoken.  _ I don’t want to make a scene in front of Phil, but  _ really _? We’re going to pretend it never happened? _

 

Our plates were empty, aside from mine. I’d stopped feeling hungry when the anger had begun to fill my stomach instead. Phil excused himself to, presumably, go to the bathroom, so I decided now was as good a time as any for an outburst.

 

“What the hell?” I asked, voice low but full of malice. “Why am I here? What was the purpose?” I was sick of whatever game they were playing, ready for it to be over.

 

“Son, I’m not-” my dad started, but my mum held up a hand, eyes hard on her husband.

 

“Daniel, bear,” I cringed at the term of endearment, “I know things went...poorly the last time we spoke,” my eyes could’ve fallen out of my head for how hard I rolled them, but I let her continue. “No, you’re right,” she amended, and my eyebrows lifted slightly. “We were horrible to you. Judgmental and bigoted, and there is nothing we can say or do to excuse that.” She sighed, then, wearily, and put her head in her hands.

 

“Look, son, we made a huge mistake. We know you may never forgive us for it,” my dad began where my mum had left off, “but you deserve an apology. You deserve much more than that, but it’s all we have to offer,” he concluded, and I could see the slightest shine in his eyes.

 

My mum was a different story, the tears already spilling down her cheeks as she spoke again. “We just want you to know that we feel awful for what we did, and that we absolutely support you in whatever you choose to do, whoever you choose to be with. We don’t care, we just want you to be happy.” She smiled a little, dabbing her napkin at her eyes to stop the tears. “And Phil seems like a lovely choice,” she smiled brighter, then, hands falling from her face as she glanced behind me.

 

Phil had returned, and the veil of normalcy descended once again.  _ Did my parents just...apologize? And approve of Phil? And...what the fuck is going on? _ My brain was nowhere near catching up to the present as Phil offered to collect our dishes and assist with the clean-up. I sat, frozen, eyes glazing over as I stared at the flickering of the candle on the table.

 

I was startled from my trance by my mum’s hand resting briefly on my shoulder. “Daniel, thank you so much for coming for dinner. And you as well, Phil. You’re both welcome back any time,” she smiled, and I almost couldn’t tell she’d been crying just minutes ago.

 

“We’ll absolutely be back, thank you so much for your hospitality, Mrs. Howell,” Phil said, and I stood to follow everyone into the foyer. Phil handed me my jacket from the closet, and I put it on numbly. I accepted the hug my mum gave me, and nodded to my dad.

 

I almost jumped as I felt Phil’s arm snake around my lower back, resting on my hip as he guided me toward the front door. My cheeks burned, still expecting some kind of outburst from my parents at the affectionate gesture, but none came, and my parents were wishing us well and Phil was smiling - as usual - and thanking them both, and then we were outside in the bitter air.

 

“I think that went well, don’t you?” Phil asked as we turned down the street. 

 

“I don’t...I...what was that? What happened?” I shook my head, and Phil just smiled at me. “I mean, I assume you kind of heard - er, sensed - what was happening?” I turned toward him, somehow expecting him to have the explanation I couldn’t find.


	11. This was a black hole.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phil is becoming increasingly concerned about Dan.

**Phil POV**

The dinner had gone exceptionally, I thought. I’d actually arrived a few minutes early, hoping to impress Dan’s parents, and was shocked to see the woman I’d been helping earlier that day. She was equally shocked, and the jumbled emotions running through her head were enough for me to get the gist of the situation.

 

We’d sat down for a bit, and she filled me in on some of the details of their falling-out with Dan. I took the chance and told them that we were  _ maybe _ together, and she and her husband took it rather well. We’d just settled on a plan - I’d step out after dinner for a moment to let them have a real discussion - when Dan knocked on the door.

 

“I think it went well, don’t you?” I asked; my hand on Dan’s back was a bit cold, but it was worth it to hold him close like that. 

 

“I don’t...I...what was that? What happened?” Dan stuttered out, and I gave him an affectionate smile. “I mean, I assume you kind of heard - er, sensed - what was happening?” I nodded, then, when he looked at me.

 

“They meant it, they feel awfully about how they reacted when you told them - as well they should. But they do want to make amends, if you can ever forgive them.” he looked at his feet as he walked, and I got the sense that he was considering it. “It doesn’t have to be today, or even tomorrow, or in a month, or a year. It’s up to you to decide,” I hoped the words would give him confidence, or help in some way, but he immediately tensed up. Whatever had crossed his mind was so negative that I could feel it, despite the ring.

 

He stepped away, then, and mumbled something about needing to think about things, and he’d see me later. And I was left, standing on the pavement with the winter air swirling around me, with a very  _ very _ bad feeling. If Dan was space, this was a black hole.

 

\--------------------------------------

 

I heard nothing from him for almost a week, but I didn’t want to pressure him; the feeling lingered in my gut, though, that something was  _ wrong _ . Each time the bell at the door of my shop jingled, I expected Dan to come in. I had imagined it countless times, to the point where I started wondering if it had actually happened or was only in my head. 

 

I heard nothing from the Howells, either, but I hoped that Dan had decided to forgive them. Though I had no idea where he stood on the matter, I knew how genuinely his parents had felt. I sighed, grabbing my pitcher to water the plants that needed it. 

 

\---------------------------------

 

When the pit in my stomach refused to ease, I decided to text Dan. 

 

**Phil:** _ Hey, Dan! Doing alright? _

 

It was almost four excruciating hours before I received a response.

 

**Dan:** _ yea fine thx _

 

I stared at the text, confused for a moment. Even now, I could feel the hollow space growing bigger.  _ He is  _ not _ fine… _

 

**Phil:** _ You sure? Anything you want to talk about? I’m here. _

**Dan:** _ im fine _

 

I frowned at my phone.  _ Dan, if you were fine, I wouldn’t still have this dark feeling. Why won’t you talk to me? _ I groaned, glancing at the time. Only an hour til closing, but... _ I don’t think this can wait… _

 

I scribbled a quick note, locking the shop door behind me, and made my way... _ shit, I don’t know where he lives... _ I focused on the pit in my stomach and began walking. It deepened, so I sped up my pace, eyeing every apartment complex along the street for lights in windows, any indication of where Dan might be.

 

After six wrong turns -  _ it’s not my fault, he’s got the stupid amber ring on _ \- I managed to find a building that I was confident was his. I jiggled the doorknob, pleased that it was locked  _ \- at least it’s a safe building _ . I whispered a few words under my breath and tried it again, the lock having clicked free, and pushed inside.

 

There were only a handful of apartments, as it was a rather small building, and I had a good feeling about the third floor. As I huffed up the stairs -  _ I need to exercise more _ \- and reached the apartment in question, a sharp pain shot through my chest. It was enough to make my catch my breath, but not debilitating. I repeated the process I’d used downstairs to open Dan’s door and rushed inside.

 

“Dan, oh my god,  _ Dan? _ Are you okay?” I shouted into the dark space, and heard a muffled sound from what must’ve been the bedroom. “Dan, Dan, are you alright?” I called through the door, and almost cried with relief when he responded, though the words weren’t exactly what I’d expected to hear.


	12. “You can’t possibly understand, I’m trying to protect you."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heartbreak. Soz. 
> 
> Tw descriptions of self-harm.

**Dan POV**

“ _ Leave me alone! _ ” I shout-sobbed through the door. I thought I’d been doing a decent job of letting Phil forget about me, making sure I didn’t hurt him, but then he’d gone and texted me today and I just  _ had _ to respond. And now I was in this mess.

 

When he’d mentioned, the week before, that I could take my time deciding about forgiving my parents, the reality of my future collapsed in on me like a tsunami. And I was absolutely  _ drowning _ . Between the recurring self-doubt and the paralyzing fear that I hadn’t done  _ enough  _ with my life, I had been locked in my room for so long I’d lost track, only emerging for some basic necessities. Though food was becoming less important as the days passed, already a week into the month in question -  _ why bother to eat when you’ll be dead soon, anyway? _

 

And now Phil was banging at my door, insisting on coming in, and I couldn’t let him see me like this, I couldn’t let him get  _ close _ because he’d get hurt and he didn’t deserve it and-

 

“ _ Dan, what is going on? I’m coming in, _ ” I shook my head, not bothering to answer. The door was locked anyway, so I curled back up on my bed, fresh tears streaming down my face.

 

And then Phil was in my room, frozen as he stared at me on my bed, and I almost forgot to feel ashamed at my state for the shock of the situation - _ I definitely locked the door, how did he…? _ Before I could finish the train of thought, Phil’s arms were around me and I wasn’t so cold, and he didn’t say anything but just held me. For some reason, that was worse. So I cried until I had nothing left, until I was empty, and then I passed out.

 

\------------------------------

 

I woke feeling groggy, with a headache to match. My eyes were dry, and I blinked a few times to clear them. I forgot where I was, or why, until I shifted slightly and felt the warm arms still curled around me. I turned to find Phil’s blue eyes staring back at me, and he pulled me even closer in a hug.

 

“Whatever it is, it can wait just a few more minutes, alright?” I nodded, feeling the tears - replenished, now - returning to my eyes. “Shh, none of that, now,” his voice was low and soft, and I let it calm me. I closed my eyes again, leaning against his chest, and listened to his heartbeat.  _ You don’t deserve this. Phil doesn’t deserve this.  _ My thoughts intruded on my moment of peace, and I pulled away.

 

“You…” I started, but my voice was hoarse and I had to clear it a couple times for any kind of normal sound to come out. “You shouldn’t be here, you don’t…” I didn’t want to finish the sentence, but I felt I had to. “You don’t want to be here, to be with me. I’ll only hurt you,” My voice and eyes dropped, and I was surprised to feel his arms pull me back in.

 

“I don’t know what’s going on in your head right now, but I definitely  _ do _ want to be here. I definitely  _ do  _ want to be with you. I don’t know why you’d think otherwise, but I will say it again and again if it helps get it through your thick skull,” he smiled, just a little smirk, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

 

“ _ You don’t understand! _ ” I said, trying again to push him away. “ _ You can’t possibly understand, I’m trying to protect you, _ ” my voice had dropped from a shout to a whisper, and I could feel the tears welling up again. And his  _ damned arms _ drawing me back in. Before I could stop him, he took my hand in his, intertwining our fingers. I stared at them for a long moment, then Phil pulled away.

 

And pulled the  _ fucking ring _ off. 

 

“Phil, no, give that back!” Here I was, trying desperately to minimize the pain he’d feel, and he was making it literally impossible.

 

“You’re going to hurt me? What, did you cheat or something?” He looked incredulously at me, shaking his head. “No, not that, what then?” Despite myself, the memory came to the forefront of my mind.  _ The fucking Death card, for this month _ . I covered my face in my hands, jumper sleeves slipping down my arms to reveal the scars that would never fade, the two red lines that marked my failure at  _ yet another _ thing in life.

 

I quickly moved to hide them, but Phil caught my wrist before I could. “Oh,” his voice was soft, his face so deeply sorrowful that I wondered if I had somehow cut him instead. “ _ Oh, Dan, _ ” he brushed a thumb across the fresh cut, no longer leaking blood but somehow still just as painful. Then he brought his lips to it. “No, bear,” he said, and my heart broke at the nickname.  _ Please stop, stop feeling bad for me, I’ll be gone soon - I predicted it _ . 

 

His head whipped up, obviously catching my thought, and I ducked it again, shyly. “I read my fortune for next month. The Death card,” the last part came out as almost a whisper, and I felt a hand tug my chin up. My eyes refused to follow, but he wouldn’t have it.

  
“Look at me,” he said, and I indulged my urge to stare into his eyes - blue, but also green and gold, and always sparkling. “That is  _ not _ what the Death card means, Dan,” he shook his head, corner of his mouth lifting slightly. “It means  _ change _ ,” then his lips were on mine, and I couldn’t process  _ anything _ , so I just kissed him. 


	13. Epilogue: “You look like space.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some cutesy happy stuff, to make up for the last chapter.

**Phil POV**

Dan laughed at it, now - his misinterpretation, how easily it could’ve been avoided - but there was a piece of him, and of me, that was glad for it. He needed help, had needed it for a while, and we’d gotten him some; he was smiling again, that beautiful star smile that I kept on falling in love with.

 

He’d been quick to forgive his parents after that night, and we had dinner at their home almost every week. The remaining evenings were spent at my apartment - his psychologist had said it would be best for him not to be alone, and I’d been more than happy to offer up my services as roommate.

 

When he wasn’t working on an article - he now used the desk in my flat so he wouldn’t get distracted - he would wander around every corner of the shop, pointing out different objects and asking what they were for, or how to use them, or what spells he could do with them, and so on. His curiosity was as insatiable as it was adorable, and he was a fast learner - he’d even begun to start helping customers while I ran deliveries. 

 

Ninety-five percent of the time, he’d wear the amber ring - occasionally, he’d only take it off to ‘send’ a thought my way, like when he wanted me to take the trash out or had a question he didn’t feel like asking aloud. The other five percent of the time, though, that was...let’s just say, our sex life was  _ incredible _ . But aside from that, he enjoyed us being a ‘normal’ couple. Well, as much as we could be when he would get some idea in his head for a new spell - hard to call it ‘normal’ when he had to hide in the flat for three days with purple, sparkling skin as the result of a cantrip gone wrong.

 

_ Speaking of which… _

 

 **Phil:** _How’s it coming? Still sparkly, Edward Cullen?_

 

I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t absolutely hilarious, but he’d been glad to hear that the spell would wear off by the end of the day tomorrow.

 

 **Dan:** _stfu you spork you know I am. and I take great offense to that! besides vampires dont exist_

**Dan:** _ wait do vampires exist? _

 

I chuckled, shaking my head.

 

 **Phil:** _No, they don’t. Don’t worry, I still love you, regardless of your purple and sparkly situation_.

 

I smiled, slipping my phone back into my pocket to help a customer. The last one of the day, a younger man who  _ insisted _ he needed a Ouija board and candles to communicate with his dead grandmother. The same guy who’d been in last week to ‘cleanse his home of evil spirits’. And who’d been in the week before for some herbal pouches to attract his soulmate. I wasn’t sure if he fancied himself a witch, or if he was trying to impress someone, or if he was just bored, but he was in almost every week.

 

I rung up his board and candles, then locked up the shop behind him as he left. I turned at the creak on the stairs, yellow eyes glaring at me from one step and a shimmering boy from the step above. 

 

“He’s into you, y’know,” Dan said, smirking. He was very cheeky these days, and it made my heart soar to see him finding humor in everything. 

 

“Who?” My mind took a moment to catch up to the current situation, the customer I’d just finished ringing up. “That guy? I mean, he comes in here every week, but you don’t think…?” Dan just stared, smile growing. “Okay, you  _ do _ think,” I pondered for a moment.

 

“Once I’m less... _ colorful _ , I’ll have to make sure he knows you’re taken,” another cheeky smirk from Dan, and I let my eyes roam his skin. The intensity of his predicament had faded slightly, and it was actually kind of breathtaking - I couldn’t look away, until Margery meowed and rushed across the shop to bat at the hanging leaf of a plant.

 

Suddenly free from my paralysis, I met Dan at the staircase. He was two steps above me, so I pulled him close and buried my face in his chest. His chuckle resonated against my cheek, and I stood back to look at him again.

 

“Your skin…” I was transfixed again, tracing a finger over his arms, his collarbone, his cheek - the purple had turned into a swirl of deep blue and indigo, and the disco-ball glittering had mostly faded to a faint shimmer. A few remaining sparkles caught the low light of the shop, though, and they danced under my gaze.

 

“I know,” he huffed in annoyance, but I shook my head and pulled him into a quick, soft kiss. 

 

“No, it’s  _ breathtaking _ ,” I whispered, utterly in awe, “ _ you look like space _ .”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, lovelies! If you'd like, feel free to give it a cheeky [reblog on tumblr](https://knlalla.tumblr.com/post/166980756317/like-space-update)


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